


All of You

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: I don't know, I got a random idea for trans!Nicky and then I got all emotional about it, and then it turned into porn.





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, this is FTM/M romance/sex. I'll be using identifying words like cock for clit etc. I know not everyone identifies this way, and content warning if you have possible personal triggers to do with trans identities and body labeling. I love you all, this was just my interpretation regarding these characters.

Changing is always the hardest part.

Circling the wagons, Mark has always called it. The half-second when they all turn their backs and press in, struggling through the costumes backstage. It's down to an art. Out of those trousers, into these ones, Nicky in the middle and raking his hair back before it can look anything but casual. Stumbling about in the wings while the musicians catch up to their next entrance.

He doesn't mind. None of them ever have. It's Nicky. One of the lads. Arguably the most masculine out of any of them, and at first Mark had thought it was an act, when he found out. Overposturing. It isn't, though. He's just Nicky. The cute lad who'd shown up to the auditions and marched onstage like he had something to prove.

He's Mark's bandmate. Best friend. Soul-mate, in a way.

“Hello Manchester!” he roars. The crowd roars back. Mark catches a cheeky grin across the stage and flashes it back. “How ya feeling?”

Nicky basks. If there was one place Nicky was born to be it was here. He's a breath in time that holds itself and waits to be let out.

The trip to the van is a dash. Nicky's ahead as usual. That shuffling run that somehow speeds at a sprint. Kian catches the corner a second after him, Shane and Mark trailing behind. When he climbs in Nicky is already buckled and grinning. Panting. Wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Here.” He tosses Mark a water bottle. Mark swallows down two gulps without a breath in between. When he looks up Nicky is giving him that slow look.

“Hey,” Mark says, and sees strong thighs part casually across from him. Nicky nods.

“Hey.”

They wish the others goodnight when they reach the hotel. Glances are exchanged. Neither of them bother to address them. Shane and Kian can think whatever they want. About what this is.

None of it matters. What they think. There's no point dwelling on it. The parts don't matter. What does is Nicky stripping off his shirt as he crosses the room and tossing it into the pile near his suitcase. The run of the shower while Mark shucks his trousers and waits his turn.

“It's free,” Nicky announces. Mark steps in after him. The water's not been turned off so he doesn't have to wait, just fits into the cascade of hot spray Nicky's left behind. It smells of him in here. A dense beat of sweat washed away. When he glances out there's a towel around Nicky's waist and he's inspecting himself in the mirror, running his hand over the stubble starting to peek through.

When Mark steps out, a towel around his own waist, Nicky's already gone.

He finds him sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a thin cotton robe.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nods. His feet are on the floor and Mark kneels down between them, sees a slight flush in pale cheeks when he does. Rests his head in Nicky's lap and nuzzles into the warmth of cotton and thigh. Fingers card gently through his hair.

“My folks want you to come for dinner.” Not the sexiest thing to say. He doesn't care. They're past that.

“Do they?” It's nervous.

“I want you to come to dinner with my family,” he amends. When he looks up Nicky's smiling.

“Do you think they'll like me?”

“They already like you,” Mark points out. Nicky shrugs. “They'll like you,” he confirms. “I like you. Might love you, even.”

“Might you?” The fingers in his hair tug gently. “Might love you too.”

“Cool,” Mark chuckles. They said it months ago. It had been heavy. A nervous moment where Mark had blurted and Nicky's eyes had widened and they'd both stared at each other. Somehow right. Less nerve-wracking than their first time, anyway. Peeling back the layers and Nicky trembling and blushing and asking if he was sure.

Mark had been sure. Was sure now. Questions of gender and sexuality and but if you're gay, why would you-. A constant drone of irrelevancy that faded into the background whenever his boyfriend smiled at him.

“Mark.” It's a breath when he shifts to press his face lower. Nuzzles in and finds the shape and smell. Presses a thigh out with his hand when it goes to close. “You don't...”

Have to. He does. Oh fuck, he does. Not for himself, but to watch Nicky's face change. That defensive, self-conscious shield lifting away. That moment of understanding. That Mark loves all of him. That Nicky is the man he's always wanted, heart and soul and body and mind.

He wants Nicky to see what he sees.

“Want to,” he mumbles drowsily. “Wanna suck you.” A breath hitches above him. Coarse hair on the inside of a quivering crotch that he noses at and feels dampness press to his cheek. Kisses into the crease of thigh. Feels it tense. A slow shudder of breath out and fingers tightening in his hair.

“You want it?” Nicky whispers. Mark growls softly. “Wanna take my cock?” Nails scrape at the top of his ear.

“Nicky.” He moans when a thumb slips across his lip and darts into his mouth. Ragged nail that Nicky always bites. Can feel the fluttering that runs through Nicky. The one that is turned on but doesn't want him there, not yet. Wants the sensitivity first. The anticipation of it. The one that is Mark leaning up to pull him into a deep kiss, hands slipping the robe off narrow shoulders.

The towel slips from his own waist. Puddles around his knees. Nicky glances down.

“So hard,” he croaks, and guides Mark into another kiss. When it breaks they're both breathing harder. Mark's hand has found a nipple. Sensitive bud that hardens under his teasing thumb.

Nicky shuffles back. Mark follows. On top of him and moulded together. Nicky is arching. Seeking friction. Mark can feel him sopping through the robe.

He wants to taste. Bites kisses and licks to throat and chin. Thumb teasing a nipple again and mouth dropping to suckle at the other. Nicky is arching. A slow, breathless roll against him that breaks into a judder when Mark scrapes teeth. When his hand finds the narrow edge of a waist, bracketed with hard ribs. Thumb skimming aging scars. Still a little pink but better than the restrictive binding from two years ago, the one that had left bruises and made Nicky's back pinch with pain.

They'd not been together then. Not properly. Nicky had been fragile. Self-conscious. Sure of himself in a way that made the rest of him feel like mismatched luggage. They'd talked about it. Or Nicky had cried and Mark had held him, and wiped up his tears, and promised that emotions didn't make him less of a man.

“Please,” Nicky gasps, while he humps Mark's thigh. “Marky.” Teeth catch a perfect bottom lip and mark it red. Mark slithers down, hands mapping the way.

“Turn over for me,” he murmurs. Nicky does. Flips defiantly onto his stomach the way he does everything else. Strong slender legs spattered with gingery hair. Mark eases up the bottom of the robe and reveals more. Bites across a firm cheek and in. Breathes in the smell. Clean and musky and Nicky, croaking a whimper while Mark presses a thumb to his hole and licks against it.

“Love,” Nicky sighs. Mark laps in. Feels him twitch and shiver open. “Love, ah.” Head buried in crossed arms buried in the pillow. Slips his fingers down. Slick folds that swell at his touch and stick as he brushes a finger along their length and parts them. Feels a hot slit so different from the hole he's teasing with his mouth.

It's heaven. Nicky is responsive. Golden while his hips set a rhythm. Two fingers in. Searching. Nicky's got a hand down too, something to press against, and when Mark eases his hips up and licks his way under he feels a tense moan that seems to spill into his mouth when he wraps his lips around Nicky's little cock.

“Ohjaysus.” Nicky sobs. Mark presses. A thumb on his hole, two fingers inside him, and his mouth suckling at a sweet shaft. His chin is a flood. Nicky is _grinding_. Swollen. A messy, wet heartbeat of lips as he kisses. Tastes. Darts his tongue and feels thighs shiver around his head until Nicky _goes_ in a sudden pulse of sweetness. Crying out and his toes curling and braced under Mark's chest, wriggling for release while they kick against the mattress.

It's his favourite thing, making Nicky do _that_. That moment of perfect, guiltless pleasure. If there's one thing Mark's jealous of it's that Nicky will be ready again before he is. That he can make Nicky do this over and over again if he wants.

“Can I?” he whispers, as he kisses his way up Nicky's back and reaches for the condoms.

Hands thread into his while he slides in. Nicky is open. Lets him sink. They don't often do this. Usually it's the other way. Nicky with a strap-on and slamming into him, eyes dark and possessive.

This is for the times when Nicky loves himself a little more. Just enough to see that Mark loves him too.

“I love you,” he whispers. Nicky breathes it back. Arches and pushes his spare hand beneath himself while they exchange hard kisses over Nicky's shoulder. While Mark pulls back and pushes through again, into Nicky. Into everything this beautiful man is and has and needs.

Nicky's breath rises again quickly. Whimpers bite into Mark's arm while they ride each other, locked together. Their other hands clasp and Mark helps. Matches the rhythm Nicky sets and lets it guide him. Wishes he knew what it felt like. Thinks he almost knows when Nicky cries and shivers and cries and shivers and _tightens._ Pushes back while Mark buries himself in Nicky and speeds the rhythm. Closes his eyes. Kisses harder and pushes faster and feels Nicky push back. The deflated roll of spent hips and thighs clamping while Nicky's fingers spread over his mound and dip in again. A caressing beat that's teasing another one out.

“Nicky,” Mark rasps. Nicky sobs and presses back against him. “Jesus that's it.” The grip in his is almost painful. Nicky is snarling into the pillow. “Can you come for me again? Can you do that, love?” He hears a hiccup of torment. Locks his knees and tries to keep this going, for Nicky's sake, though he doesn't know how much he has left.

Not much, is the answer. Feels the clamp of velvet walls turning to sudden steel and grunts in surprise, half gone before he even realises it. He fills Nicky. Burns into him. Their legs tangling futilely together and Nicky slamming back onto him, Mark's fingers drifting away as he loses control of himself and leaves Nicky to finish the job.

Nicky comes beneath him, while Mark pants and clumsily gropes and bites. It's guttural. A sudden seize that forces the remains of Mark's erection out. Eyes closed and Nicky riding it. A moment of sweaty, dishevelled perfection.

He wipes Nicky gently down afterwards. Helps him into his boxers and tidies up the clothes they've dumped on the floor. The bulge, Nicky's trademark, goes carefully into the suitcase to be used the next day, alongside the syringe kit. It had been confronting at first. Now it's just Nicky, helping himself be who he's been all along.

When he's done Nicky is almost asleep. Mark lays down beside him. Snuggles up and makes a teasing joke about men always nodding off after sex. He gets a jab in the side. Jabs back and feels fingers run affectionately through his hair.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Cool,” Nicky yawns. Mark kisses his shoulder. “This room smells like gash.”

“No.” Mark closes his eyes. Hears a hum of contentment. “Smells like you.”

 


End file.
